A dirty secret

Female attorneys out there, I apologize. Especially current or aspiring female biglaw attorneys. I am going to say something you are never, ever supposed to admit out loud, much less in writing.

Pregnancy is hard. It takes a serious physical toll on you. If you've never been pregnant, you have no idea how physically taxing it is, especially the last few months. It's not just a matter of feeling a little more tired than usual. It can be uncomfortable and often painful.

Pre-pregnancy, I didn't mind (too much) when somebody dropped work on my desk at six and said, "You can turn these documents around tonight, right?" meaning "Stay up until two in the morning so we can get these documents out." That's what I signed up for when I took this job.

But since the beginning of my pregnancy, the biglaw schedule has felt inhumane. Now when I'm lugging huge closing binders to someone's office, or I have to stay up until all hours to get a set of documents out, or I have to wait for the partner to respond to my email before I can go to bed, I no longer do it cheerfully. Sometimes I want to say, "DON'T YOU PEOPLE REALIZE I'M PREGNANT? LET ME GET SOME SLEEP." For god's sake, I have SHINGLES. A condition caused by STRESS. I don't know if it was coincidental that it started after two weeks of working nights and weekends.

I can never say that out loud at the firm, of course. Because admitting that pregnancy has made me less willing and able to do my job means that any woman who may get pregnant is now suspect. It means that the firm doesn't have to just suck up my maternity leave, but has to deal with me not performing the way I should for nine months beforehand. It means that a young married woman is a worse bet as an employee than a childless woman or a man. So everyone, including me, tries to ignore the pregnancy and I get treated exactly the same way I did before. I know in terms of women's rights and equality in the workplace, this is a good thing. But in reality? It doesn't feel like a good thing.

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Fun facts about shingles

Shingles is a reactivation of the dormant chicken pox virus that can happen when you are under stress and have a lowered immune system. It causes painful skin breakouts that stay on either the left or right side of the body but never cross over the center line.

Ask me how I know. Ah, the joys of pregnancy.

I started an antiviral medication yesterday and keep reminding myself that the pain of labor will be much worse than this. In another week I should be better. Every time I take the medication, I think of K when he washes his hands. Normally he hates washing his hands and gets angry when asked. But if I remind him about germs, he gets excited about battling the evil germs and washes his hands while shouting, "GO AWAY, GERMS! TAKE THAT! YOU WON'T MAKE ME SICK!" And sometimes he makes me pretend to be a white blood cell.

P.S. - My doctor said there should be no harm to the baby. If you think otherwise, I don't want to know about it.

P.P.S. -  Yesterday morning after washing his hands, K added, "But don't worry, germs, one day you can get in my body and make me sick. And then I'll go to the doctor and you can have a lollipop." "The germs can have a lollipop?" I asked. "Yes, because I'll eat the lollipop and then it will go all through my body and the germs can have a little piece." Maybe we've been taking this empathy thing a step too far.

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Special nude band

K walked in while I was changing this morning, and gave a little shriek at my giant belly. "Can you give me some privacy while I change, please?" I asked. (Actually, I don't care about privacy. I just didn't want the commentary.)

He went away, but returned a minute later carrying a small stool and two items from his doctor's kit. "This band is only for nude people," he announced. "Now you clap and say WOO!" After I complied, he sang a song while banging on his improvised drum. Then he instructed me to clap and yell, "Bravo!"

He ran out of the room again as I finished changing. He left the door open a little and through the crack, I could see his pajamas go flying across the hall. (He never seems to be able to take them off like a normal person. He always hurls them as far away as he can get them.) Then he returned and it was my turn to play the drums for him while he jumped on the bed. Finally I managed to get him dressed and there was no more audience for the band for nude people. I like the concept, though.

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2011 post-baby resolutions

A few weeks early, but here they are. I'm not planning to accomplish anything in 2011 until June at the earliest, other than doing the necessary setup for the baby, having the baby, and surviving the early months, so these are my post-newborn resolutions.

Get in better shape than I was in pre-baby. Have a regular exercise routine including weights, even if I need a babysitter to do it.
Revamp my wardrobe so I have decent, fitting clothes that I actually like to wear both in and out of the house. Accessories and shoes too. Consider not wearing the same shoes every day. Buy a decent bra, or several, after stopping nursing. Go shopping at least quarterly, and actually go to a mall. Resist buying clothes, shoes, or beauty products online unless I know for a fact that they will fit.
While on maternity leave, get out every day there is nice weather. And pull out the "learn piano" book and use it at least occasionally.
Plan a summer vacation. (Maybe a family summer vacation including the grandparents and siblings.)
Get professional photos taken.
Figure out daycare.
Get house in better shape: put up curtains on all windows; put up family picture wall and other decorations; organize attic and bookshelves.
Do a budget and figure out where we can increase our savings, investment, and donations. Think about using financial tracking software.
Do something town-related.
Be able to talk about sports.
Possibly try meditation.
Join a book club and/or reading website; keep track of books read.

Also, this obviously hasn't been on my priority list, but after looking at this blog post I realize I should fix my template. I didn't want to say goodbye to my dinosaur, so I just stuck him in without taking the time to make him look nice. At some point during the next year, maybe I'll fix that. But organizing my sock drawer and freezer are higher up on the list.

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Tradeoffs

I just got a call from a partner, asking if I was in the office. "Sure, I'm here," I replied.

Which made me think (while scribbling down notes about the documents he wanted me to find) about how this is the only job I've ever had where there's a good chance that, at 7:30 on a Friday night, I'll still be in the office.

Even as a law student, I used to think that once my basic needs were met, if I had a choice between money and free time, I'd almost always choose free time. Clearly I haven't made that choice. Of course, it's more complicated than just money and time. This is my career, and prior to law school I didn't have a career I cared about that much. And for the most part, I like the work I do. I'd rather be at home with my family right at this moment, but if I can't, I don't really mind being in my office surrounded by stacks of paper.

I think it's good to re-evaluate once in a while, to look around and think, "What am I doing here? Is this really worth it?" At least for now, I think it is. Maybe time will change my mind, or kid #2, or something else I can't imagine right now. (Maybe the 20-degree trudge back to the car later tonight, just in time to avoid the post-midnight extra parking fee.)

Okay, back to work.

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Friends again

Yesterday K threw a tantrum about getting dressed and I started getting upset because we were running late. He yelled at me and said he didn't like me and was going to put me in jail, and I replied (not in the gentlest of tones), "I love you, but I feel very frustrated that you won't listen." He looked like he was going to cry and I felt miserable.

I took a deep breath and said, "Let's stop fighting, and be friends again. Okay?"

He paused, then smiled and said, "Okay." We hugged and he asked, "How can I help you not be fustwated?" I told him I know he doesn't like to get ready and leave home in the morning, but that's what we do every weekday. I need him to cooperate and listen because it's important for me to get to work on time and for both of us to have a good start to our day. He agreed and got dressed.

Last night and this morning, every time we got into the slightest disagreement (he wouldn't get in the tub; he asked for cereal with milk and then didn't touch it, one of my pet peeves) he immediately said, "Let's be friends again." I had to laugh. "We are friends. I'm not mad at you. I just need you to listen to me when I tell you to do something."

I'm not always the world's greatest mom. I forget to brush his teeth in the morning and I probably let him eat too much sugar. I often feel happy to leave him at daycare and go to work so I can be an adult for the day. But I feel like JW and I are pretty good models for showing K ways to deal with stress and conflict, and that will serve him well. I guess we'll see with the next kid whether K's relative calmness comes from our parenting or his personality.

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Things that K said to me this morning

1. "Let's get under the covers and tell secrets."

2. "Do you think worms cry?"

3. "I don't like you. I only like Daddy." (Because I was making him get dressed to go to school.)

Also, I was reading through the responses to a blog post about nicknames parents had for their kids. Three parents who responded said they had babies or toddlers named Atticus. Is this a trend? (JW did suggest Boo as a name. Little Boo could team up with one of the Atticuses when he gets older.)

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Cuter every day

Lately, people (all women) have been telling me I look "cute." One person recently said, motioning to my belly, that I look "cuter every day." This means that, while I am usually small, I am now small and round. On a single day, I had two people comment on how usually I was so tiny and now I look so cute, one person make the same comment to others in the elevator right after I stepped off and the doors were closing, and a total stranger tell me that I looked way too big to only be six months pregnant.

If rotundity is the measure of cuteness, I am becoming excessively cute. I've finally grown out of all the non-maternity clothes that I had been getting away with. One day soon I need to go through my wardrobe and preassemble at least a week's worth of belly-covering outfits that are suitable for work.

I feel as large and uncomfortable as I did much later in my pregnancy with K. In particular, I feel like I am constantly being kicked in the ribs and can't stand to wear a bra. I think that once you get pregnant, you should be allowed to go to a tropical island where you can wander around nude and take naps whenever you want and people hand you fruity drinks.

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